The Helix
by Blue-eyes Lily
Summary: The Helix was always Jerome's greatest hill to climb; his blessing and burden simultaneously. Rated T merely for safety reasons.
1. The Golden Babe

**Author's Note: Hi there fellow fanfictioners! So, this is my second Gattaca fanfiction now. This time, I started off with the notion of analyzing the importance of the spiral shaped staircase, and the story evolved from there. It's going to be a short chapter fic highlighting some important points in Jerome's life, switching between past and present (and thris/first person. Yes, this ****_is_**** intentional) while he "climbs" the stairs in one of the later ****scenes of the movie. I really hope this will turn out how I planned... Oh, and by the way, I'm no scientist. Actually, I'm godawful at biology. So, all the science-y stuff is this is probably pure crap ;-) So, yeah, anyway, I hope you enjoy this and would be so kind as to drop me a little review at the end.  
Tonnes of love  
-Blue-eyes**

**Summary: The Helix was always Jerome's greatest hill to climb; his blessing and burden simultaneously. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Will that suffice?**

Chapter 1: The Golden Babe

My body collided with the floor and it took me several seconds to regain my breath. From my floor bound position, I lifted my eyes- for I could lift no more- to the long, winding staircase. To anyone else, ascending it would have been no more difficult than anything else. Once, it would have been for me, also. I imagined myself, a young man, sprinting up the spiral with ease, lightly hopping from one step to the other. But here I was, worming my way across the floor towards the fearsome helix that separated the bottom floor of my house from the one I should have rightfully been residing on, my arms never failing me, at least, so very different from that man.

* * *

_Jerome Eugene Morrow had been born on the third of August, 2019, to Augustus and Camilla Morrow, an English family of high breeding but, the two having been born before the completion of the GTCA project, almost worthless genetic code. Camilla was a beautiful and slender woman, strong with good stamina- or so her husband might have said- but she was severely short sighted and had a tendency towards depression and seasonal affective disorder, plus fairly crowded teeth and unequally positioned patellae, which required her to wear orthopaedic shoes at all times. Augusts, who was in his thirties when his first son was born, was already developing a portly stomach and was, in years to come, wont to fulfil his destiny of high cholesterol. He, as his mother had, would probably go deaf or become hard-of-hearing with age, and his eye sight, too, was not the best. His eyes were a tad close together, his nose a little too large for his face; altogether his looks were ordinary to fair, but never superior. Also, the poor man suffered greatly from athlete's foot. While neither counterpart of the Morrow marriage could boast superior looks or skills, they had nevertheless been able to secure that their son would. _

_Project GTCA was a prestigious albeit slightly daring venture; Doctor Leopold Reich, a German scientist, had succeeded in unlocking the foundation of all human life forms, the essence of their being: the DNA. He had further endeavoured to create the key to creation itself… and succeeded. For not quite a handful of years, it had been possible to almost exactly determine every single attribute of unborn children and to engineer then in certain way; to change that which would hinder them later on life and enhance that which would benefit them. It had been only a few years since this next stage in genetic engineering had been approved and legalised, but already there were thousands of children with night on perfect genetic codes, symbolising the next step in human evolution. And soon, there was to be another. _

_The day of Jerome's birth was sunny and warm, a cool breeze wafting through the open window of the hospital ward. Camilla had only been in labour for a few hours, but the doctors were already taking the paid for precautions to shorten it as much as was possible. The soon-to-be mother's yelps and cries echoed off the bright hospital walls, as did her husband's urges to keep pushing, intermingled with "Cloths!" and "Pillows" and "Get the bloody mask, Janine!" and "He's crowning!" _

_Augustus watched both in fascination (and just a touch of terror and confusion) as his baby boy- his beautiful, requested and highly invested in son- pushed his way out of his mother's womb. The head, though slick with fluids Augusts cared not to find out more about, was already well formed, no bossing or receding of the forehead so far the new father could tell from his vantage point, and already betrayed soft blonde curls. Tiny shoulders followed next, along with a sturdy chest and little round tummy. The new-born's legs did not seem bowed and were of a good length, as was the rest of his little body, and when finally the smart little feet with neatly curled toes arrived, Camilla let out a cry of and pain and ecstasy, and Augustus scrambled over to his wife, scooping her up in his arms, clinging on to her for dear life. _

_It was only when they heard the whirring of a machine and the creaking and pulsating sounds of a long list being printed that they let go of each other. Weary eyed, propped up on her husband's arm, Camilla looked over at the nurse who had taken her brand new son's blood sample. _

_"__How is he?" _

_The nurse, a stunning African woman with a mild accent, proceeded to read from the list. _

_"__We've eliminated every genetic imperfection we could. You'll be happy to hear that he has a zero percent chance of any eye condition, deafness, heart disease, lung disease, liver problems. His bone strength and potential muscle mass is far beyond average, exceeding that of a non GTCA baby by… seventy two percent." The nurse read more numbers and conditions of the list, nothing but the most mild conditions such as slight tooth crowding or a tendency to mild eczema exceeding a probability 0,137 percent._

_"__Bloody hell," Augustus breathed, glancing over at his wife. She, in turn, twisted her hand around to grab onto his in happiness. _

_"__Potential height: six foot to six foot three. He has a five point three percent chance of addictive behaviours," continued the nurse "and an eight percent chance of manic depression" the beautiful nurse looked at the new parents apologetically, "but other than that, you have yourself a child practically perfect in every way. Do we have a name yet?"_

_"__Jerome!" _

_"__Eugene!" _

_Both parents spoke at once, prompting giggles from the nurse. _

_"__Jerome Eugene," Augustus tried again, and Camilla nodded in agreement. _

_The nurse jotted down his name on both the list of his genetic dispositions, and the again on a document lying next to it. She rolled up the list, tying it neatly with a little ribbon, and, taking the baby from the padded dish he had been lying in, wrapped in a towel, into her arms, passed both of them onto Camilla. _

_With gentle fingers, she removed the towel from her son's face and peered into his eyes, which, though only opened the tiniest slit, appeared already sapphire blue in colour. _

_"__Jerome Eugene Morrow…" she whispered. _

_"__If I may say so myself," the nurse interrupted, but not unkindly, "It's the perfect name for a boy of his genetic code. He'll make you proud, someday, your little golden boy will."_

_"__Did you hear that, Jerome?" Camilla cooed into the towel, "You're my little golden boy._

* * *

Readjusting my legs to be in alignment with the rest of my body, I reached out for the bottom step; the first step on my climb to the top of the helix.

**_Author's note: Before I forget, this fanfiction is for ViendraLione, who served as my main inspiration. Thank you ViendraLione!_**


	2. A Duck to Water

**Author's Note: Right, back with chapter 2 of The Helix. Yay (?) I hope this chapter isn't too... Vanilla. It's not easy writing about two things I know absolutely squat about: biology and swimming. Jerome is kind of based on one of my friends who is on her way to becoming a swimmer., so it may be at least half-plausible. Well, I hope you enjoy this and would take the time to drop me review. Reviews are love.****  
****Kindest regards,****  
****Blue-eyes Thropp**

Chapter 2: A Duck to Water

Holding my head up to keep it from banging on the wooden steps, I stretched my arm out, over my head, to grab onto the banister around the corner. Aside from the fact that my bottom half was unmoving and I felt a dead weight to my own body, it was almost like swimming.

Vincent had told me one night that I should be going to Titan. Up there, he had said, my legs wouldn't matter a jot. I remembered how being in the water was similar. Complete weightlessness. Was it that that had originally attracted me to swimming?

* * *

_As it had most of the last years, Jerome's birthday celebration took place in an unusually un-Anglian sun. Children flitted gaily around and sung songs all day, repeating the catchy Happy Birthday melody even long after all the candles had been blown out- in one puff, naturally. The youngest Morrow's lungs were already strong enough to extinguish at least twice as many of the little cake candles in one breath._

_Thankfully, Camilla and Augustus Morrow had had the sense to take the children to the woods that day, right near a lake. The trees provided a little shade at least, and prevented the chocolate icing atop the cake from melting and the guests from overheating. The only downside to the woodland setting of the party were the insects. Many children had already ran up to Mrs. Morrow, crying and squealing from the pain of a wasp sting. Jerome had suffered at the hands of a particularly ruthless wasp, but, unlike the other kids, had brushed off the pain, slinking over to his mother only to show her the swelling on his forearm, which scared him a little._

_Jerome was not the only GTCA child at his party- the term vitro or Valid was preferred in the case of such children- but by far the only one of his calibre. Just a year ago or two ago, he had been able to play peacefully with these weaker children, but now that he was eight, Mr. and Mrs. Morrow were beginning to notice a more distinct difference in height, intelligence andstrength between their son and other Valid, not to mention Invalid, boys of his age. He had started taking an interest in reading at age three, at first memorising his picture books, then words, and was by now a fully capable reader. He had shown special talents in science, as far as a just eight year old could, taking great pleasure in little experiments and regarding things under the microscope his grandmother had presented him with for his sixth birthday. What was more, he engaged in rough and tumble games, always winning, but always playing fair. He had a strong moral code when it came to fisticuffs, and although he would never sacrifice the honour of first place for altruism, he gauged his opponents well and fought them according to their strength rather that his own, so as not to hurt them. Races were a common past-time between Jerome and his friends, as was swimming. Swimming, it seemed, was Jerome Eugene's biggest passion._

_It had started when he was but a toddler of three. His father had taken him to Weymouth for an extended weekend, some father-son time, right at the coast. Pictures of them matching bathing shorts still decorated the Morrow house's walls. It had been an unusually hot day without any rain, and Jerome had been complaining something rare. Although his tolerance levels were unusually high for most things, he was still a little London boy at heart, and, at that time, a day without rain was a day in hell. To soothe his little boy, it had been Augustus' spur-of-the-moment decision to scoop Jerome up in his arms and run with him to the sea, which was right behind their holiday residence. The moment they were in the cool, aquatic realm, Jerome had taken to it like a duck. It seemed as though the movements required to keep afloat were also genetically inbuilt in the little boy, and his father had spent the whole day perfecting them with him. For the rest of the weekend, father and toddler had spent every sunny moment splashing about in water, learning to swim. It had not stopped after they returned, either. By the time he was five, Jerome was a superb swimmer, one of the best of his age group._

_"Can we thwim, Mitheth Morrow?"_

_Camilla had been lost in memories, and startled at the tug on her long, summer dress. Gillian, a little Valid of seven, was stood behind her. Although her parents had pain a decent sum of money for their little girl, she had still developed a lisp and her speech was, as a result, a little slurred. Camilla noticed the beads of perspiration on her forehead. No wonder, they had been playing a rather wild game of hide and seek and piggy-in-the-middle._

_"Oh, love, I don't think so. Maybe when Augustus gets back from the house."_

_The truth was, Camilla Morrow was no swimmer. Her husband was, though, yet he had driven back to the house to fetch more lemonade, which was being downed by the children like there was no tomorrow. She would not risk one of the children hurting themselves or going under without someone there who could save them._

_"But that'th not fair," the little girl protested, her manners not that which the ought to have been, "Matthew wath allowed!"_

_Camilla's head snapped around. To her horror, she saw nine year old Matthew Morrisey's head bobbing up and down in the water, his hand flying out and waving to the other children above his head. That child had been blessed with a brilliant body to contest even Jerome's, but no sense to speak of._

_"Bloody hell..." Camilla breathed, and then, throwing down the hand-held fan that had been keeping her cool, she trotted down to the lake as quick as her impractical heels would carry her._

_"Matthew!" she called out, her hand cupped around her mouth for an auditory advantage, "get out! Matthew, come out of there at once!"_

_But the youngster was too far out to hear her. He was still waving and grinning foolishly, enjoying the attention that he was getting, for all the other children, hearing Mrs. Morrow's cries, had gathered around her and were now watching as Matthew swam demonstratively further out. He seemed, for a while, to be absolutely fine, enjoying himself, even, and Mrs. Morrow began to relax. After all, wasn't Matthew almost as perfectly engineered as her own son?_

_It was then that Matthew's head first disappeared. Most of the party guests laughed, believing it to be some kind of diving stunt, and, sure enough, his head reappeared again. And then it disappeared. And reappeared. And disappeared. When his head popped out of the water for the third time, it was accompanied by an arm, splashing frantically in the water, sometimes coming up over the bobbing head and waving. Camilla started and began to scream for help, at Matthew, at the children, but all her efforts were futile. She could not rush to his aid, much less could any of the little kids around her knees, who were starting to get nervous themselves._

_As Camilla frantically screwed her head around in all different directions, she barely noticed a little figure beside her rip his shirt off over his head, kick off his shoes and relieve himself of his trousers before running down to the water, barefoot, and plunging in. It was only once the figure had dived into the lake that she noticed her son was missing._

_"Jerome?" she called out, but was not met with an answer, "Has anybody seen Jerome?"_

_"He'th there, Mitheth Morrow."_

_Gill, who was still hiding behind Camilla's skirts, was holding a pointed finger out horizontally in front of herself. Camilla followed it with her eyes, all the way beyond the bank of the lake, skirting the horizon, until they located a little boy, already half way between them and the other child in the water, swimming rapidly in his direction. Camilla's eyes widened and her lips parted, but she didn't even bother calling out. Jerome was already too far out to hear her anyway._

_The lake was a very different environment to the pool Jerome was accustomed to, and every time he felt a piece of seaweed wrap around his ankle, or the bottom of the lake took a sudden dip, or a stray fish brushed past him, the young boy felt slightly panicked. But his teacher had told him that panic was the worst thing that could happen to anyone in the water, so he pushed on, relentlessly, until he reached his friend, who was slowly being dragged under water, his strength having left him. Jerome had been told how to save someone when he had acted as a lab-rat for some of the older children in his swimming group who were learning how, but it was quite another thing actually grabbing someone under the chin and pulling them out of the water when they were trashing about as much as Matthew. Still, he tried to get as good a grip on his friend as he could and, when he felt that he had, began to make his way back to the bank, constantly checking that Matthew was alright. He could hear the other party guests all those feet away from him, some cheering him on, some chattering excitedly, and some plain scared. Secretly, he revelled in the attention and, partly without noticing it himself, stretched his back a little further and kicked his feet with a little more grace._

_When they reached the back, Camilla Morrow pulled both boys onto the muddy ground. She embraced her son tightly, his blonde hair leaving a wet mark on her floral summer dress, then turned to the young Morrisey boy. She was sorely tempted to chastise him, but as she saw him lying on the ground, coughing for air, all she could really do was thank the heavens that Jerome had saved him on time. _

_It was much later that Matthew finally summoned up the courage and humility to thank Jerome. He even deigned to add, "You're a really good swimmer, Jerome."_

_Jerome thanked him. After the young boys had gazed rather awkwardly down at their feet for several seconds, Jerome was struck with the sudden urge to share a piece of advice he had found very helpful. _

_"My swimming teacher says we should always save something for swimming back. Then you won't go under."_

_Matthew seemed rather apalled at the fact that the younger boy was trying to give him advice, so he turned around, wordlessly, on his heel and marched back to where the other children were playing. _

_Camilla, having overheard much of the conversation, came up behind her young boy and wrapped her arms around him. _

_"Well done," she whispered to him, "you're my little hero, do you know that?" _

_As his mother ruffled his hair, Jerome beamed with pleasure and there and then, standing on the bank of a lake, still damp, on his eighth birthday, Jerome Eugene Morrow knew that he never wanted to be anything else in his life. _

**Author's Note: I am never again going to try and write in spite of creative block. Next time, it'll just have to wait. Sorry for this awful mess. I would still appreciate reviews and the likes of such though ;-)**


	3. If at First

**Author's Note: So, Virendra Lione, my only reader and the sole purpose for the existence of this story, I must apologise to you for the long (long long long) wait for this chapter, but, to avoid severe punishment and to fulfil my end of our pact, here is the long (long long long) since promised third chapter.**

**As in my previous chapters, I have added a little nod towards future Jerome in the chapter. I just loved the scene after the Cavendish Club, so I kind of decided to explore one of the quotes form it here. I hope you- and anyone else who reads this story- enjoy it! **

**Love,  
Blue-eyes xxx**

Chapter 3: If at First…

I grabbed hold of the banister with my right hand in an attempt to pull myself up several steps at once- time was of the essence, and I had been making slow progress so far. I gave a hard tug, and felt multiple steps pass in even bumps beneath me. I reached out my left arm to do the same thing again, but, as I pulled myself upwards, my hand slipped off the banister and I felt myself sliding downwards, unable to brace myself thanks to my absolutely useless legs. My arms flailed around as I slid, and finally, my fingers tightened around a stair. I breathed a sigh of relief, expelling a breath I didn't know I had been holding in. I was no further down the staircase that I had been before my _ingenious manoeuvre._ I clenched my eyes shut and cussed under my breath.  
As I began to pull myself upwards again, a phrase that my mother had used often when I was growing up echoed in the back of my mind; a phrase that I had myself repeated for many years…

* * *

_Jerome Eugene Morrow was a good student. There was no doubt in anybody's mind about this fact. He took a great interest in science and where perhaps he lacked in creativity and individuality, he nonetheless made up for it in technical perfection and almost painful precision from a very young age. He excelled in the subjects of his interest, and even showed great ability in those that he was not as passionate about. He had an unmatched ambition and thirst for knowledge and achievement right from the start. In truth, his only drawback was under stimulation. And, on occasion, perhaps his perfectionism, which tended on boarder on arrogance._

_At the time when Jerome reached the age at which Camilla deemed it appropriate to enrol him the school system- or rather, at which she felt she could part from her son for a for a few hours per day- there had been no primary schools purely for Vitro children. Jerome was therefore forced to spend his days with children far below his calibre in every respect until he was ten years old, when the first pure Valid schools emerged. But, having spent the most shaping years of his life in the company of lesser children, Jerome learned two things that would be far from beneficial to him in years to come; for one, he became accustomed to a position of superiority and, secondly, he formed the belief that success would come to him, as it had in school, with minimum effort and input on his part. While at first Jerome had been thrilled with the prospect of school and of learning new and exciting things, as he grew older, a new streak of arrogant laziness grew with him. While he was still eager to please and achieve, he began to invest increasingly less time in reaching his goal, sure that he would still reach his goals without working for them. He began to refuse to complete his homework at home, insisting that he was fully capable of doing so in the minutes before his lessons began. He would no longer study for tests without serious prodding and harsh words and, in class, he grew bored and occasionally had to be reprimanded for inattentiveness. However, Camilla and Augustus could hardly complain. Jerome's results in school were far beyond simply satisfactory; he was adored by his teachers and largely revered by his peers for his intelligence, his charm, his wits, his look and his drive to achieve. Still, they both secretly wished that Jerome would not expect success to be awaiting him at every corner; they did not have any doubts that they had provided him with the possibilities to be highly successful, but neither Morrow parent wished to see their son hurt if, someday, the time came when he would not completely fulfil his potential for whatever the reason may be._

_While he was in primary school, the one thing that kept Jerome from descending too far into crippling boredom from the perpetual state of lack of stimulation was swimming. His parents made sure to create as many opportunities for their son to engage in his favourite pastime as were possible. This included enrolling him in his school's swimming team. However, even here, Jerome soon found that he was by far superior than his teammates; than the members of the older team, even. He won every competition, he was the coach's pet, and, by the time he was transferred to an all-Valid school, he was even able to compete successfully against swimmers several years his senior._

_However, once he entered the school for Vitro children only, he was at once startled by the great difference between the two worlds that were his new and old school. Here, GTCA children were not only amongst their genetic peers; they were separated into classes depending on the level of engineering their DNA had received and their particular special talent, of which every Valid had at least one. In his science classes, Jerome found himself learning new things at a much faster pace than ever before. Finally, he was stimulated in class, and he started to work for his results more and more. He was still amongst the top of the class, and still managed to make in into every teacher's good books- not because of his birth-given superiority, though, but thanks to his ambition and well earned success rate in class._

_Jerome signed up for his school's swimming team practically the second he arrived; swimming with other boys and girls that were mostly able to match his agility and speed in the water was a much-needed challenge for Jerome, and it kept him working hard at his sport, improving every day. The young boy couldn't have been more content at his school. And then, the day of his first regional competition arrived._

_The Morrow family had taken their sleek, black car down to the local swimming pool. It was a chilly, spring day, and everyone was undeniably thankful for the fact that the competition was to be held indoors. Jerome had been excited since the early hours of the morning, when he had awoken to a light, energy-giving breakfast, lovingly prepared by Camilla and a man-to-man prep talk, conducted, equally lovingly, by his father. It was only eight o'clock in the morning as the small family of three piled into the car, Jerome sill gushing about the competition, which he had been looking forward to since it had been announced some weeks previously. _

_Jerome had been chosen, along with two other boys and one girl, to represent his school in the regional swimming competition. Though it had not been officially announced as an event solely for Valid students, it was almost impossible to not notice the complete lack of Invalid students. Naturally, it was only the best swimmers that were allowed to represent their school, so, naturally, only children with the genetic predisposition to supportiveness were chosen, but it did leave a strange taste that remained mostly unexplained and withheld, in the mouths of many a parent. Camilla tried not to think of this as she listened to Jerome's voice, which had begun to deepen in the last months, from the back seat going on about the other competitors. There was a girl called Elena, who was supposed to be sweet and innocent looking, but he had heard that her team-mates fondly referred to her as_ Great White, _due to her ruthlessness in the water. His team was also good, but he wasn't sure if Carl would do very well, since he suffered greatly from nerves. But Coach O'Brien had taught him a new technique to improve his speed, and his breathing had greatly improved in recent swim meets. _

_The Morrow's car pulled up outside the swimming pool. Spying one of his friends from the window, Jerome all but leaped out of the back as soon as the engine was off. Camilla managed to grab him by his arm before he could disappear into the small crowd of children and parents that was gathering outside the entrance. _

"Mum,"_ Jerome whined, "Henry is over there!" _

_"__I know, I know," Camilla said soothingly, bending down to speak into her son's ear over the noise of general conversation and cars arriving and leaving that surrounded them, "I just wanted to tell you that dad and I will be in the third row, and we'll meet you just outside the entrance when you're done, alright?" _

_Jerome rolled his eyes. He was at that age where parental concern was not regarded as anything particularly pleasant. But he followed the eye-roll with a little laugh and a playfully sighed, "Alright, Mum." _

_Camilla pulled Jerome into a tight hug and whispered, "Good luck, my little golden boy." _

_She had called her son her_ Golden Boy_ ever since the day he had been born. After almost eleven years, Jerome had started to tire of it, but Camilla persisted with the old nick-name, which she felt suited her boy and all that he was immensely. Again, Jerome rolled his eyes and sighed in an overdramatic display of exasperation. _

"Mum!"_ he groaned, wrenching himself free and running off to join his friends. Presently, Augusts sidled up next to his wife and gently led her into the interior of the swimming pool by her arm._

_The pool was a simple, square construction of white tiles; immaculately clean, with the pungent odour of chlorine hanging in the air. The noise of chatter did not decrease as the spectators filed into the building. Indeed, thanks to the echo that the high ceiling created, the noise grew in the confined space. Parents crowded into the rose of plastic seats of the side of the pool, and Camilla and August became quite flustered and confused in the hustle and bustle. _

_By the time they had found their seats in the third row, the clamour had died down, and the competitors were lining up, op the opposite side of the long swimming pool next to a small table with three judges sat behind it. Each team wore bathing suits and shorts of a different colour; Jerome and his team-mates were in green, and Camilla located him immediately, recognising his blonde hair and handsome smile from where she was sat. She found herself beaming with pride, and Augustus kept leaning over to her, whispering, "There he is!" and "He looks so happy!" and "That's my boy…" The other contestants that caught Camilla's attention were a particularly tall and burly young man of a tanned, Mediterranean complexion, a doe-eyed girl stuffing red pigtails into a silver bathing cap- she wondered if this, perhaps, was the infamous Elena that Jerome had told her of- and a group of four girls in blue who were stood some distance away from the other children, running up and down on the spot and chanting something. _

_A bell rang, signalling the beginning of the competition, and the contestants climbed up onto the starting blocks, ready to take their first jump into the water. The shrill sound of a whistle rang out, and it was immediately followed by a collective splash. The spectators instinctively leaned backwards, as though there was a chance of them being hit by water, and then leaned forwards again to peer into the water._

_Camilla saw her son's green shorts bobbing through the water and she pointed them out to her husband excitedly. They watched their son's even strokes, his arms hitting the water with perfect precision. He looked to them like a professional swimmer, with his arched arms and strong legs. They were so preoccupied with Jerome's elegance and the pride that swelled up in them that, when Augustus muttered, "I think he's falling behind, Camilla," the smiling mother was, at first, unwilling to accept it. But then she saw the several children reach the end of the pool opposite from the one they had started from, turning around, and beginning their second lap, the figure in green that was her son reaching the end of the pool several seconds after them. He was not the last; he was succeeded by a girl in blue, but there were a number of contestants that were already well ahead of him. _

_The Morrows' faces fell as they watched Jerome struggling to catch up. Suddenly, he seemed more frantic than elegant, more desperate that professional. He snatched a breath of air, and Camilla thought for a horrible moment that he might drown- an irrational fear, she knew, but a fear nonetheless. Still, he pressed on, even catching up with one participant dressed in silver, but he still came in third. Camilla sighed as she watched Jerome climb out at the side and longed to be the one to wrap him in the fluffy white towel as his coach was currently doing. She was the coach give him a friendly pat on the back, than send him off to sit on the side and watch as the next group of young swimmers climbed onto their blocks and wait for the sound of the whistle to ring out again. _

_When the last round of the competition had finished, the three judges compared notes briefly, and one made a few notes on a piece of paper. Some people had started chatting around Camilla and Augustus, but a second bell silenced them once more. The judges proceeded to announce the winners of each round- Jerome had, in the end, placed fourth in his round, tied with the boy in silver- and then of the entire competition. Out of the twenty young swimmers, Jerome had placed ninth. His friend, Henry, had placed second, in between_ Elena the Great White_, who had come in second and a boy from the purple team, who had won first place. The three climbed onto the steps of a little podium that stood beside the judges' table, which were marked with 1, 2 and 3, and medals of gold, silver and bronze were placed around their necks, respectively. The spectators applauded- it was easy to tell who the parents of the winners were, for they applauded the loudest and screamed their children's names across the room- and the competitors left to get changed. As Jerome shuffled out, Camilla couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a downtrodden expression on his usually happy and carefree face. _

_The parents and other on-lookers began to leave soon after the children had disappeared into the changing rooms. Camilla and Augusts Morrow were of the last to emerge from the pool, and they found their son, fully clothed but with his hair still dripping and sticking to his face in the exact spot that they had arranged. He was clutching his duffel bag to his chest and trying to look at anything but the families of the winners congratulating them, ruffling their beaming children's hair and laughing heartily. Both Camilla and Augustus knew better than to say anything to Jerome at that moment, so his mother took his bag off him and shouldered is, while Augusts placed a comforting hand on his back and started walking off to the car with him, a few paces ahead of Camilla. As her husband opened the car door and got into the driver's seat, Camilla placed Jerome's bag into the boot and retrieved some fruit from the back pocket. Instead of getting in next to her husband, she closed the boot and opened the back door of the car, sliding in next to her son. She passed his the fruit and laced her arm around his shoulders, pulling him towards her. Jerome did not protest this time; his head dropped onto his mother's shoulder, wetting her powder pink jacket with Chlorine scented water. They stayed sat this way for a while, Jerome munching quietly on a pear. When he had eaten the last bite Camilla lifted his chin up so that he was facing her. _

_"__Hey," she said, with an affectionate smile, "do you want to know what my father always used to say to us when things didn't go the way we planned?" _

_Jerome didn't react to her words, but she continued anyway. _

_"__He would say,_ 'If at first you don't succeed; try, try again.'_" _

_Augusts twisted his head over his shoulder to smile and nod encouragingly at Jerome. And, finally, Jerome smiled back- a wan, deflated smile, but it was better than his downtrodden scowl. He gave his mother a final squeeze, before she climbed back out of the door and walked around the car to take her place in the passenger seat. As they drove off, Augusts struck up a conversation about rugby, and the events of the day slowly ebbed away, no longer a heavy shadow in the atmosphere of the Morrow's car. _

_And, the next time a swimming competition rolled around- and every time afterwards- Jerome Eugene Morrow came home with a golden medal. _

**Author's Note: So? Was that OK? The next chapter will explore Jerome and his relationship to Invalids a little bit more. I just love the wordplay with Invalid and invalid, I'm kind of hoping to put at least a bit of a nod towards said wordplay in chapter 4. And this time, I promise, in the spirit of a certain pact, the update will follow much, much sooner.**

**Wait, I'm done with you yet… Please don't forget to drop me a little review! Ok, now I'm done ;-)**


	4. Toeing the Line

**Author's Note: I feel a big apology bubbling up right now… first off, thanks so much to VirendraLione for being just about the best reader I could wish for, who was so patient while I temporarily abandoned this story. Also, a big thank you to ****_Brave Little Cylon_**** and ****_now-you-will-fall_**** for reviewing and reading my story. And now a big apology to all of you for the inexcusably long break I took from updating this story (and writing in general). But here it is, chapter 4, finally. I really hope you enjoy this and will continue to read and display the amazing amounts of patience you have for far.  
Loads of love  
Blue-eyes xxx**

Chapter 4: Toeing the Line

It was growing increasingly difficult to work my way up the treacherous metal ladder- I took a short break to catch my breath and re-align myself, fully aware that my time to reach the top was greatly limited. As I pulled my legs over to the side by the seam of my black dress-trousers, I could barely suppress a rueful, cynical smirk. I wondered what everyone from my former life- the life I left behind a year ago- would think if they could see me now. After all the money and time, hope and expectations, what would they say as I crawled up my own bloody staircase, dust lining the front of my designer cardigan, toeing the line between Valid and Invalid.

* * *

_In the following years, Jerome grew quickly into a fine young man. After a growth spurt at age thirteen, he began to lose his boyishness, and, as Camilla said on several occasions, became more and more gown up with every passing day. His sweet, boyish face squared up, his hair darkened and lost some of that curl his mother had been so fond of when he had it cropped into an attractive Ivy League look in his early teens, which he sported from then on. His skin was nearly flawless in comparison to the speckled visages of more than one of his friends and his voice soon deepened. He still had his father's aqua eyes and his mother's plump lips, but while as a child Camilla and Augustus had little trouble seeing themselves in their son's face, he was now becoming his own man, in more than one respect. By age fifteen, he was both lithe and manly, so strapping and genteel that many girls did harbour interest in him, and though one may have assumed that he would develop philandering tendencies, what with these natural prerequisites, he bided his time until he reached the ripe old age of seventeen to embark upon any romantic ventures. Indeed, he was more focussed on his academic and athletic achievements than anything else. _

_It was evident to anyone who knew Jerome Morrow what his path in life would be, even before he reached his teens. It was not as though he was without choice, as many less fortunate children were. Many fields were wide open to Jerome; he had a gift for science and mathematics, he was bright and perceptive. Jerome had a competitive nature, and yet his acute sense of justice prevented him from becoming too ruthless. His greatest flaw was, perhaps, too much ambition. Many a teacher tried to encourage him to opt for a life in politics, or perhaps in research, medicine and even lecturing, but it was plain to see for anyone that his true passion and future lay amidst the waves. He was a born athlete and swimmer, focussed and driven. After Jerome's winning streak began at age eleven, he became more driven with every competition. He worked harder, did better and expected more with every regional and even the occasional national competition he qualified for. In turn, those around him expected more also. His teachers deemed no grades but the highest, and his coaches no placement but the best good enough for Jerome Morrow, and were bitterly disappointed if their star ever failed to deliver- and took no pains to hide this. But so far, Jerome had never reacted with frustration or resentment; whereas other children may have foresworn that which was causing them pressure, he simply pushed himself harder than ever. His parents occasionally worried that, one day, he would buckle but so far, he had displayed no behaviour that suggested anything of the kind, so they were able to dispel their fear as typically parental fretting. _

_Jerome's first girlfriend was a Valid girl by the name of Marissa. They had met at school, and that was the extent of Camilla and Augustus' knowledge. She had her heart set on a marketing job, and she was already well on her way to achieving her goal. She was a bright girl, tall and of a fairly dark complexion; nowadays, when blood had no country of origin as such, it would have been impossible to place her anywhere on the map, but one of an older generation might have said her looks were decidedly Egyptian. Regardless, she was unmistakably a beauty, and Jerome was head over heels for her. _

_She was a bit of a partygoer, which Jerome wasn't, and never had been. She moved in vast social circles whereas Jerome preferred his select group of friends. It was Marissa who first introduced him to the possibility of a wider social life. The Morrows felt it did their boy good to get out of a Saturday evening, rather than make his was over to the local pool as usual. He didn't drink, smoke or take any form of drugs; he stayed within the boundaries of what was legal and, more importantly, what was sensible, although no one could vouch for his new friends. Still, as long as he enjoyed himself, his parents were content. And Jerome, too, felt a new sense of freedom around Marissa. He reverted, in some respects, back to his old self: he found that he was still fully capable of excelling in nigh on everything he set his mind to without frantically pushing himself. He learned to relax a little; to believe once again in his birth-given abilities as a Valid. This effect of Marissa's on Jerome was no lessened by her belief, of which she informed him time and time again, that Valids were the superior human beings; that they and they alone were destined to run the world. One the contrary…_

_One particular night, Jerome and Marissa had decided to make their way home from a small social gathering at a pub on foot. The night air was crisp and fresh, and the sky was a striking shade of a blue that could only be described as royal. The first stars were emerging from the silky blanket overhead, and the waxing moon generated just enough light for it to be bright enough to walk home by. It was the perfect night for an evening walk, and as they meandered down the quiet streets together, chatting about school, Jerome laced his arm around Marissa's slim shoulders, and let the fresh air fill his lungs. He had forgotten how wonderful it could be to simply do nothing. _

_"…__and, you know, I don't think my mum actually gets what we're doing in school. I mean, I can't expect her to, I know that, but it'd be nice to have her actually show some appreciation once in a while. She just kind of frowns on everything she doesn't underrrstand and thinks it's all a waste of time," Marissa have a little giggle; a short break in her endless tale of the trials and tribulations of a Valid in an Invalid home, "I guess you don't get that much as a swimmer, eh, Jay?" Jay was her pet-name for him, and Jerome loved it. It was less stiff than Jerome Eugene._

_"__Not really," Jerome shot a loving smile down at his sweet-he heart, "just from coach O'Brien, really." _

_"__Yeah, he sounds like a whacko." _

_Both laughed and jostled each other about playfully. _

_"__He's OK really. Just expects a lot, you know?" _

_"__Well," Marissa said, lifting her delicate hand up behind his back to run it through the hair at the nape of his neck, "he had good reason to expect a lot. You're the best swimmer he has, Jay. I wouldn't be surprised if you qualified for the Olympics, you know?" _

_She run the tip of her tongue lightly across her lips and batted her long eyelashes at him. She knew it drove him crazy- in the very best of ways- and he knew exactly what it was a cue for._

_"__You're so sweet," he said, a boyish smile playing on his lips, as he slowly manouvered her and himself closer to the wall of a nearby house. _

_Marissa giggled; it was an old game, one they both knew how to play, "No, you're so sweet." Her back was right up against the wall now, and Jerome's arm was around her waist. His other hand wandered to her forehead to brush away a stray jet black lock. _

_"__No," he whispered, slowly leaning in, their faces mere inches apart from one another now, "you're so sweet."_

_His last words were muffled as he closed the last of the gap between them and gently placed his lips upon hers. The kiss was gentle at first; a soft brush, no more. Slowly, Jerome curled his arm tighter around Marissa's waist, so that he was bending slightly over her and she was leaned slightly back. Her fingers twisted around in the thicker hair on top of his head and she gave a little noise of pleasure. He felt her hips bracing themselves against his, and he carefully slid his other hand around the back of her thigh and pulled it upwards, so that her leg was laced around his hip. Their tongues found each other in a gentles caress as their kissed more passionately. They were so entangled in each other's embrace, so preoccupied with the taste, smell and feel of one another that it took them a moment to realise the brawl that was starting to take place behind them. _

_Jerome heard a crash; the shattering of glass, and he swivelled quickly around, abruptly ending their shared moment. _

_Two men were emerging from the pub; one was already out on the street. The latter was considerably smaller and weaker-built than the other two, and he has a visible limp. Under closer inspection, Jerome noticed that he carried a cane as a walking aid and wore thick glasses. One of the burlier men had thrown a bottle after him, which now lay, a shattered heap, next to him, it's blood-red content spilling onto the pavement. The two men slowly approached him, and with one brief flourish, the smaller man was sprawled on the ground, his glasses skittering across the concrete. He cried out as a fist collided with his jaw with a sickening crunch. _

_Marissa gripped onto Jerome's arm in horror. "Come on," she whispered, "let's go." _

_But Jerome deftly wrenched his arm free and bounded towards the scene of the skirmish. Marissa screamed out to him, but he took no notice. He used the burlier men's distraction to his advantage; an elbow to the back brought the first one down. The second one, noticing his friend's surprise, managed to grab Jerome by the arm and pull him inwards. Jerome was briefly unsure as to which direction was up or down; all he could see were flying fists and a bearded face snarling at him. Something hit his in the ribs and winded him, but he pressed out despite the lack of air, drawing his knee swiftly upwards. It hit it's mark perfectly; the solar plexus was a tender spot, even on large, apish thug, and Jerome's adversary crumpled onto the floor. His friend, who had since recovered from his shock- although not so much as to be fool enough to take Jerome on again- grabbed his wheezing friend and they both hurried off into the distance. _

_"__Fuckers!" Marissa cried out after them as the disappeared, rushing to Jerome's side. He wheezed a little but forced a smile onto his face all the same. _

_"__Come on," Marissa took him gently by the hand, "we should go." _

_But instead of following her, Jerome knelt down on one knee to lift the cracked spectacles up off the floor and hand them to the young man on the floor, who had inched away in fright when Jerome had entered the brawl. _

_"__Thanks," he said, as Jerome proffered his hand and helped the battered man up. They shook hands, then Jerome laced his arm back around Marissa's shoulders and they took off. The had only gone a few steps when Marissa wriggled out from under Jerome's arm. He halted in surprise. _

_"__What's the matter?" he said, taken very much aback. _

_"__Why did you have to do that, Jay?" she said. Did he see disappointment registered on her face? _

_"__Do what? Help that poor guys out?" _

_"__No, after that!"_

_"__Help him up?" _

_Marissa nodded. She looked a bit ashamed of herself, but not ashamed enough to deny her feelings. Jerome simply shrugged and shot her a perplexed look. _

_"__Didn't you see his glasses?" she attempted to explain herself, "and his foot?"_

_"__His foot?" _

_"__It was kind of twisted. And those thick glasses… Jay, he… he wasn't like us." _

_"__You mean and Invalid," Jerome sighed, slowly beginning to comprehend. Marissa nodded again. "I couldn't just not help him out. Didn't you see those guys?" _

_"__I don't mind you helping him out," Marissa whined "but you didn't have to help him up. You don't have to be so… I don't know! He's just you're level, Jay, you didn't have to give him your hand." _

_She was obviously unsure of how to formulate her sentence, so Jerome decided to gloss over it. He held his arm out to her and she accepted it, cuddling in and placing her head on his shoulder. They resumed walking, in silence for a while. _

_Presently, Jerome spoke again. "You know what scares me?" he mused out loud. _

_"__What?" _

_"__You say that guy, right? I mean, if he wasn't wearing glasses, he could have been one of us."_

_"__A Valid?" Marissa laughed out loud, "Come on, Jay… what about his foot?" and she shot him a sceptical glance. _

_"__Yeah, but, imagine one of us had a nasty accident-" he waited while Marissa knocked her fist three times against a nearby tree. Touch wood. No nasty accidents would be in store for them now. "We could be just like him." _

_He could feel Marissa's head shaking from side to said against his collarbone. _

_"__No," she said simply, "we wouldn't be just like him. We'd still be different. I know it sounds horrible, but we'd still be… well, better. You'd be able to hold your own much better than that guy. You'd still be that much brighter; more able. You'd still be a Valid, even if you… I don't know, got stuck in a bear trap or something." Both giggled at the notion as she ran off to touch another tree some distance up the road. It seemed better to touch wood for safety measures, even if they would still be Valids. _

_As he watched her running off, Jerome found himself feeling a little uneasy. Their mood had certainly been dampened, but it was more than that. A myriad of notions overcame the young man, and he was unsure to deal with them. For one, he felt, as much as he did not like to admit it, that Marissa was right about their simply being superior to Invalids. He- and Marissa and all his schoolmates- had abilities that did not even compare to those of non genetically enhance children. They're horizons were practically endless; they were virtually unlimited. They had the potential to achieve what others could only dream of. And right there and then, under that clear blue night sky, he was suddenly very determined to fulfil that potential- and beyond. Also, for reasons at that present moment unfathomable to him, Jerome felt that his relationship with Marissa was coming to a close. And he really felt like swimming again. _

**Author's Note: The question has recently presented itself as to how I intend to make Jerome a suicidal perfectionist in the future. Basically, my idea is to slowly build up the pressure that Jerome puts himself under and the pressure that others inflict on him, so that, by the time he turns twenty four (Jude Law was 25 when he made Gattaca, minus the year after Jerome's suicide attempt) he will be so obsessed with winning and making others (and himself) proud that… well, you know the story. I have a few ideas as to how I'll go about the build up, but suggestions are always welcome.  
Also, reviews are love, so if you enjoyed this, please drop me a line in the review box to let me know.  
xxx Blue-eyes**


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